Museum visit

You casually enter a modern art exhibition – your arms crossed behind your back, your jacket draped over your shoulders – and the breathtaking Miss Davina Dust has hooked herself into your right arm. She wears a cheeky summer dress that deliberately highlights the advantages of her model body. Only the knee-high boots with the murderous heels don’t quite fit the image of the well-behaved museum-goer. You notice the envious and admiring glances. But what none of the other visitors suspect is that you are the surrendered companion of your dominatrix, who is craving culture this afternoon. Your arms are tied behind your back with transparent bondage tape – invisible to the others. Your best piece wears a chastity belt and is also fitted with electrodes. There is a vibrating egg in your anus. And Miss Dust carries the remote control for these little gadgets in her handbag.

As you look at a painting together, you suddenly feel the buzzing in your bottom. It started so suddenly that you can only stifle a cry with the greatest of difficulty. You want to get down on your knees and beg Miss Dust to stop the sweet pain. But you can’t – there are too many other visitors in your vicinity. So you put up with it until your mistress has mercy – knowing full well that this was only the beginning.

There’s not much going on in the museum on this hot summer’s day and suddenly you’re all alone in a room. You notice the nasty grin on Miss Dust’s face – and she pounces on you. With her long, red nails, she’ll go wild on your nipples until your eyes roll. Then she sits down on one of the visitor benches with her legs crossed. At first you don’t know what to do. Then you feel the pain in your center. Miss Dust sends little electric shocks through your best part. You try with all your might to tear the restraints on your arms to free your little friend, but it’s hopeless. Miss Dust notices your desperate situation and takes pleasure in it. Then she orders you to kneel in front of her and lick her shoes with the incredibly high heels if you don’t want to make the acquaintance of an even stronger load. You hesitate for a moment and weigh up the two options. Which is worse? Kneeling on the floor and perhaps being seen by other visitors? Or the unknown intensity of the next electric shock? You notice that Miss Dust is fumbling around in her bag again. You have to make a decision …